


Sick of This

by Jellyneau



Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-06-15
Updated: 2011-06-15
Packaged: 2017-10-20 10:43:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,014
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/211928
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jellyneau/pseuds/Jellyneau
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam had never been so sorry for having a one night stand.  After all those times he’d warned Dean to keep it in his pants, you’d think he should have known better.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sick of This

Sam cupped his hands under the cold running water and splashed his face again. The bracing cold felt oddly soothing. Where the hell were Dean and Bobby? They should have been back by now. This whole thing should have been figured out and he should be feeling better. He looked up to the metal rimmed mirror above the sink and shuddered. He was looking pretty damn mowed over. Twice. His stubble had started looking more beard like and his eyes seemed more sunken than they did even yesterday. A glean of sweat shone on his forehead.

He thought back to his last encounter with his brother and rubbed his cheek as if the memory had brought back the sting of Dean’s left hand. That was over a week ago but time felt like it was standing still. All he could do was wait. He had no choice now. Damn it, Dean!

It all started about a week and a half ago on their way to Disneyworld.

 

“Why are we going to Florida, again, Dean?” Sam asked, trying to work his head around it.

“We’ve been over this, Sammy” Dean said, exasperated. “I’m meeting Lisa and Ben. End of story. No case. Just Lisa and Ben. Got it?” Dean leaned on the accelerator and pushed the Impala a bit harder.

“Yeah, I get it, Dean, but Disneyworld? Really? Dude – you can barely stand in line at WalMart without having a panic attack. How are you going to be able to manage waiting for rides with the teeming masses?”

Sam had a point, but Dean wasn’t going to let him know it. “Shut up. Anyhow – it’s a chance for you to hook up with that nice pathologist you played footsy with in Orlando”, Dean smiled.

“Dean – we were in a morgue, and I wasn’t playing ‘footsy’ with her. And don’t try to change the subject. I thought you and Lisa had a falling out sometime when my soul was down South?”

“We did. We... talked. Look...Whatever, Sammy,” Dean continued, “Whatever you wanna do with your time, do it. I promised Lisa this weekend and Ben’s been looking forward to it.”

They drove in silence for a while before Dean’s cell phone rang in the tune of ‘Should I stay or should I go’. Sam smiled as Dean flipped it open. The irony wasn’t lost on either of them.

“Yeah”, Dean answered. A monosyllabic conversation followed, leaving Sam wondering what the hell was up. Dean finally flipped his phone shut with not much more than a ‘hrumph’. “That was Bobby”.

“And...”

“And there’s a job. God damn it.” Dean threw his phone in the back seat.

“What? Where?” Sam asked.

“In Alabama. How the hell am I going to get to Wallyworld in time now. Lisa’s going to be pissed.”

From what little he knew of Lisa, Sam figured she would probably understand, but he could understand Dean not wanting to let Ben down. They sat in silence for a tense minute before Sam came up with an idea.

“Look Dean, the job’s only a few hours from Orlando.” Sam broached, “How ‘bout I’ll drop you off at Mickeyland and then I’ll go take care of it.” Before Dean could roll his eyes, Sam pushed on, “Just fill me in and I’ll deal. I’ve hunted on my own before, Dean, and this won’t be the last time.”

Not wanting to admit how much he’d rather be hunting than in a queue for ‘Thunder Mountain’, Dean put up a bit of a fight before begrudgingly accepting his brother’s argument. He couldn’t bear to let Ben down again.

“Okay, Sammy, but this thing has an M.O. I haven’t heard of before, so watch your back. I’ll meet Lisa and Ben, do a few rides, and I’ll high tail it out of there as soon as I can.” Dean looked over at his brother. “You sure you don’t mind? I mean, I could just call Lisa and explain.”

Sam smirked. “No, Dean. Go. I know you’ve been looking forward to the $8 hot dogs and the 20 minute line ups for the bathroom. How can I deny you all that?”

“Yeah. Thanks.” Dean scowled.

 

After dropping Dean off at the magical gates, Sam doubled back and ploughed on to Enterprise, Alabama. After heading to the local morgue to investigate the four ‘mysterious deaths’ in which seemingly healthy guys got crazy sick, then were found disembowelled about a week after they took to their sick beds, Sam needed a stiff drink. Another morgue. Jesus. Maybe he’d go for a few stiff drinks tonight.

The bar was nearly empty, so Sam chucked his stuff onto the seat of a booth close to the door and pulled out his laptop. An attractive blonde waitress took his drink order and Sam couldn’t help but notice her figure – which was, well, distracting. She kind of reminded him of Jo. Maybe it was because the bar was a bit like the roadhouse, or maybe it was because the waitress was on the shorter side, but clearly worth a second and third look. Every now and again something reminded him of her.

Concentrate, Sam. He flipped open his notebook and started surfing for some lore about this... whatever it was he was hunting.

“Here you go. One whiskey.” The compact blonde put his drink and a napkin in front of him.

“Thanks”, Sam said, looking up and smiling at ‘Ashley’, as her name tag read. He looked back down at the open webpage, but slowly looked back up when he realized she hadn’t left.

“I’m sorry” Ashley apologized, smiling at him “I couldn’t help noticing that you... um, well, you look like someone I know.” She paused for a moment, noticing Sam’s spreading shy grin. “Oh – that TOTALLY wasn’t a pick up line – I swear” Ashley blushed, “It’s just that you look so much like my roommate’s boyfriend. Are you from around here?”

Sam tried to keep eye contact, which was slightly difficult, because he found his waitress really quite attractive. “Uh, no. I’m actually from Kansas. I don’t have any relatives around here that I know of.”

“Oh, sorry. My bad.” Ashley said, still smiling, biting her lower lip.

After a second of silent sparks, Sam took a leap. “Would you, um, like to maybe get a drink... or something, after your shift?”

 

Sam had never been so sorry for having a one night stand. After all those times he’d warned Dean to keep it in his pants, you’d think he should have known better. He should have at least done the drill – holy water, silver cutlery, something – before giving her the drill.

Moving slowly back from the bathroom, he sat on the edge of one of the motel beds and carefully lay back down again. He was sick of Dr. Phil and all the stupid reality shows and he’d long since run out of quarters for the ‘Magic Fingers’ bed feature. A smile graced his lips, recalling the grief he’d given Dean over his addiction to the mechanical joy maker. His smile quickly faded though as the memory of his last encounter with his brother flooded back.

 

“You know you can’t come with me, Sam”, Dean said, packing his bag.

“Jesus, Dean, you know how much I want to be part of this. Don’t make me stay here,” Sam entreated.

Dean stopped and looked directly at Sam. “Look. Bobby and I will be back in a week. By then, things should be back to normal. Or as normal as our lives ever get.”

“O.k., man, but you’re going to need more back up. And I want to be there. I NEED to be there... to be there... to...” Sam trailed off, feeling his legs give out from beneath him. Again. This was beginning to be a regular occurrence.

His next memory was of a solid slap to his cheek. “Sammy? Wake up!” Dean was kneeling over him, concern clouding his eyes.

“What happened?” Sam asked, already knowing the answer.

“You freakin’ feinted again. That’s what happened. Seriously, Sam. Do you think you’re in any shape to hunt right now?” Dean helped Sam up and onto the bed. “Bobby and I got this one. You need to take it easy and get better. Bobby figures it’ll just get worse until we gank this son of a bitch. And not only that – if we bring you with us, we might as well be serving you up to that mutant Siren on a platter. So you ARE sitting this one out.”

Dean had that ‘And that’s FINAL’ tone in his voice and Sam knew better than to try to argue it any further. Even though he actually ached to be there… to be near… and even... God – what was he thinking?

That had been a week ago. In fact, he had expected them back yesterday. And instead of starting to feel better, he was steadily deteriorating. According to the lore, the death of a Siren should bring instant healing for its victims. Hopefully that would hold true for this ‘Jefferson Starship’ version of a Siren too. Bobby figured that it infected people like a regular Siren did, but that the venom didn’t just create a need for the Siren, but it also made the victim progressively more and more ill for some reason. Bobby wasn’t sure what the outcome generally was for the infected if they didn’t end up dinner, but it sure wasn’t looking good. Anyhow - so far, no instant healing here. He’d tried Dean’s cell too many times now and Bobby’s went straight to voicemail. He needed to get the hell out of here and find them. That’s it. Enough of this shit.

Sam hauled himself back out of the bed and took an unsteady step toward his duffle in the corner. Both of them. No...all three of them...that were moving and waving in his vision. Fuck.

 

It was dark in the motel room when he came to. His view of the ceiling fan brought everything back and he sat up quickly, only to find the world spinning again. He lowered himself back to the floor and waited for the tilt-o-whirl behind his eyes to come to a stop. It finally did, and he had to screw up his courage to try sitting again. Taking it much slower, he eased himself up to lean against the side of the bed where he had fallen. So far so good. Take it slow. Slow and steady...

A familiar creak of the door shocked him out of his dizzy stupor. Light poured in from the motel parking lot. “Dean? Bobby?”, he croaked.

A shadowed figure appeared against the light. “Not tonight, lover” a familiar voice soothed.

“Oh my God” Sam whispered, barely loud enough for even him to hear. He had to be hallucinating. The fever must be making him hear things. He could have sworn it was Jo Harvelle’s voice. But unless she had risen from the dead, he was definitely losing it.

“Nope. Definitely not God. I’m not nearly as ruthless, but I try” she said, shutting the door and strolling over to stand at his feet.

“Jo?” Sam said, knowing it couldn’t be.

“Kind of, Sammy” she agreed, “but in form only. I took this body from a pleasing one in your memory. Have to say, I kind of like it” she said, running both her hands down her torso. “I get why you thought so...fondly of her.”

“What do you want?” Sam growled, trying to focus. She was starting to swim in his vision. Shit. Not now.

“What do you think, lover?” she said in Jo’s hottest voice. “All I did in Alabama was get you ready for dinner. I’d say you’re almost cooked, wouldn’t you???” she purred.

With that, Sam felt a bead of perspiration drip down his forehead and into his eye. His fever had clearly reached an all time high. He looked up at Jo from where he sat, leaning against the bed. A burning started building in his belly. Jo. No - got to get up. At least make it over to his bag. Dean had left him with a rigged up shotgun. The only thing Bobby could find that might actually kill this thing. He knew he probably wouldn’t get that far, but at least he’d die trying.

“So, what? You think my brother would just leave me here unprotected?” Sam said, trying to keep it occupied. Keep it talking. “You don’t think we saw this coming?” Sam said, as he inched sideways on the floor toward the end of the bed.

“Here’s what I think, Mr. Tasty. I think they left you to go hunt me, thinking you‘d be too sick to be of any help. Am I right?”

Sam kept inching closer to his duffle in the corner. “You sound pretty sure of yourself, bitch” Sam spat, trying to ignore the increasing longing he felt, making him want to do anything but hurt her. Twisting himself quickly, he pulled himself toward his bag as fast as he could muster. Suddenly a scream poured from his mouth as a shooting pain pierced his left leg. Glaring down at him with the end of her stiletto thrust into his calf, the Jo thing smiled. “You’re not getting anywhere except closer to me, lover.”

Tears streamed down his cheeks as he clenched his eyes shut to try to block out some of the pain. A wave a nausea rolled over him and he was unable to fight it. Leaning over, he heaved, spilling what little had been in his stomach.

“Tsk, tsk” it said, “you haven’t been eating much lately have you, honey? Fine with me. I like my meat lean.”

“Fuck you” Sam breathed, turning his head slightly to glare at her.

“Oh – I know that you will” Jo’s body said, while pulling her heel from his calf with a sickening sucking sound. Sam howled again. Kneeling down, her lips close to his ear, she whispered, “All those endorphins help tenderize, you know.”

With that, she picked him up like he was made of paper mache and threw him on the bed. He landed in a heap, his leg screaming with firey pain. I can’t pass out. I can’t pass out, he thought. It would mean death, and he knew it. He sucked in breath through his teeth in an effort to ward off the dark.

Hearing his efforts, the Siren chuckled. “Very good” she said from the corner, pulling rope out of his duffle. “You know – you’ve got a lot of pep for a guy on his deathbed. Even guys at their healthiest have a hard time resisting me” Jo said, sauntering back toward him. “ I’m surprised you’re still putting up a fight. Guess I shouldn’t be – you are the infamous ‘Sam Winchester’ after all. Do you know how long I’ve waited to have you come for dinner?” Jo smiled, “And I mean that in every way possible.”

Sam knew he had to fight, but he literally had nothing left to fight with. He was spending it all just trying to stay conscious. He watched her warily as she moved around the bed, tying him up limb by limb. When she got to his wounded leg she took great care, stretching it out gently before trussing it to the bed frame. Like she could read his mind, she said “I’d really like you to see the show – I’d hate for you to pass out and miss all the excitement”, explaining her sudden concern for his comfort.

Sam closed his eyes and tried to think. He had to focus. What the hell was he going to do? He was drawn and was about to be quartered and he had no idea what to do about it. And what could he do about it now? Part of him desperately wanted to keep his eyes closed and drift off. Just let her take him. He was so exhausted. Every ounce of his body wanted to just sleep. Sleep. Just. Sleep.

Sam drew a sharp breath in and his eyes flew open as he felt a hand wrap solidly on his cock. Jo’s laugh echoed through the hotel room “Hey! Wakey, wakey, sexy. I’m not ready for you to sleep just yet”. He must have been out for a bit, because his clothes were strewn on the double bed beside his naked body and the cold air in the room made him shiver. “Oh – you won’t need those anymore, so I took the liberty,” Jo said, noticing his gaze.

Releasing him, she stood and peeled off her t-shirt and jeans. She wore nothing underneath them. “Like what you see, Sam? Isn’t this what you’d always imagined? Jo wanting you? You’ve ached with need over her, Sam. I’ve seen it in your head”. He made a feeble attempt at working against his restraints, but quickly was sapped of energy. Jo disappeared from his view, and even though he knew his head stayed steady only if he kept it resting against the pillow, he lifted it to see where she’d gone to. It was a huge mistake. The dizziness was enough to make him whimper.

“Sammy? Oh - You must be feeling chilly, lying there with no clothes on” Jo said sounding concerned. “Let me try to warm you up”. Sam heard the electric wall heater click on. Jo reappeared and ran Jo’s soft hands on his bare chest. Sam shuddered with fever. Jo’s hands felt cool on his skin.

“Close your eyes, Sam” Jo said gently. “Close your eyes and just feel me”. Jo’s voice was soothing. No. NOT Jo. This was not Jo – this was some freakin’ monster. Sam struggled to try to keep his mind focused.

“I always wanted, you, Sam. I know you thought I only wanted Dean, but it was always you.” Jo breathed.

“No. I can’t.” Sam rasped “You’re not Jo”.

“Sam, I’ve wanted you since you first stepped into the Roadhouse. You always looked out for me. I just want to return the favour”.

“Jo”, Sam whispered, as her hands strayed lower, moving over his hips and running down his thighs. His arousal was becoming undeniable now. “Jo” he said again.

“That’s right, Sam.” She said, crawling in the bed beside him. “I always thought you were ‘hot’. And you REALLY are.”

Part of Sam knew his fever was way out of control. Part of him knew this was not really Jo. But a big part of him wanted to believe it was her and wanted her to take him in every way.

Jo slid down the bed and ended kneeling between Sam’s trussed legs. Sam’s breath quickened as he felt her warm breath against his abdomen, Jo’s blonde hair silken against his skin. Breath turned into a moan as she gently cupped his balls with one hand and ran her nails along his uninjured leg. Oh my God – he wanted this. He had wanted this since he first laid eyes on her. A thrill of electricity pulsed through him when he felt Jo’s warm lips spreading over the top of him, taking more and more of him in her mouth. Sliding in and out of her mouth until he was sure he was ... going...to...

Robbing him of release, Jo pulled him out of her sweet mouth and inched herself up until her lithe body rested along Sam’s length. He could feel her on top of him and he opened his eyes to see Jo lightly biting her delicious lower lip and her eyes studying his face. “God, you taste good, Sam”, she said. “Wish you could appreciate your delicate flavour. Wait a minute. You can.” She said, eagerly planting her lips on his and invading his mouth with her tongue. Jo tasted like heaven, and a slightly salty taste found its way to his tongue. “That’s you, Sam. You see why I want you so much?”

With that, Jo pulled herself up farther along his body and sat so that her sex wet his stomach. He could feel her backside with the head of his penis. Reaching behind her with one hand, she took hold of Sam and started to pump him as she circled her hood in the same rhythm. Oh my God.

Sam knew he dare not lift his head, but he had to see Jo. He’d always imagined a moment like this with her. Lifting his head off the pillow, he took in her full form, pleasuring herself while her unrelenting stroke was making him build again to somewhere he’d always dreamed to go with her. The thrill almost overcame him. Jo was.. oh my God. She wailed with pleasure as she came. No – she ... she... was. Not. Jo.

Sam’s body betrayed him and with a muffled scream he came too, his wetness spreading over her hand and back. “No!” Sam cried. His head fell back onto the pillow, the world whirling.

“Oh, yes, Sam”, Jo said, staring down at him out of Jo’s sweet eyes, “and now I’d say that the meat has been fully seasoned. Care to join me for dinner?” the not-Jo sneered.

Sam suddenly felt even weaker than he had in his entire life. He couldn’t keep his eyes open, though he tried with everything he had. “No”, he rasped again as his eyelids slid shut.

Suddenly the hotel door slammed open and hit the wall behind it with a crack. “Sammy?!” Dean yelled, rushing in, gun ready. “Holy fuck!” Dean exclaimed, getting an eye full of Sam and Jo as Bobby followed in behind him. Sam cracked his eyes open in time to see Jo jumping off of him and crouching defensively in front of his nearly lifeless body on the bed.

“Jo?” Sam heard Bobby say.

“Now, hang on, sister. Where do you get off looking like that?” Dean coughed, trying not to look at Jo’s naked form bearing all in front of him.

“I just ‘got off’ on your brother, Dean. And I was just about to settle down to eat. Shame you can’t join us, but the table is only set for two at the moment,” Jo said, inching closer to them. “Now – if you don’t mind, my dinner’s getting cold.” Jo launched herself at Dean.

On the bed, the world was slipping away from Sam again, and this time there was no stopping it. From a distance he heard Dean’s voice yell, “Now, Bobby!” A gun shot rang out and that was the last thing Sam heard.

 

Until two days later…

…Which is when he finally woke. Sam opened his eyes to find that Bobby had gone and Dean had been nursing him back to health. Despite his protests, Dean insisted they stay put for two more days after that, just so he could be sure Sam was really on the mend.

When they finally hit the road again it couldn’t have been soon enough for Sam. He swore if he had to look at that ceiling fan for one more minute he was going to scream.

They drove along in contented silence before Dean decided to broach the hitherto undiscussed subject, “So listen, Sammy, I’ve been meaning to ask about that Siren”.

“What about her?” Sam said reticently, knowing where Dean was going to go with this.

“Well, she did look an awful lot like Jo…” Dean started.

Sam rolled his eyes. “Dean, it was a Siren. She just picked a nice looking girl from my memory. That’s it.”

“O.k., but why Jo? It’s not like you haven’t had your share of decent looking chicks to choose from.” Dean asked.

“How should I know, Dean? Anyway – I’m just glad you and Bobby killed her. I’ve never felt so friggin’ crappy in my whole life. I wouldn’t wish that on anybody”.

“Well, I’ll tell you what, Sammy. Next time you want some girl to eat you, hit the bar like everyone else” Dean said, smiling.

“Shut up, Bitch.”

“Jerk.”


End file.
